


Things change...but that doesn't mean it's different

by Thruterryseyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amputation, Gen, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thruterryseyes/pseuds/Thruterryseyes
Summary: A horrific attack changes things.  Supernatural Reverse Big BangStory written by Sinfulslasher





	Things change...but that doesn't mean it's different

 

 

 

 

 

The Fourth of July  
Story by Sinfulslasher  
Art by thruterryseyes

Rating: R  
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort  
Author's Notes: Written for spn_reversebang based on the mind-blowing art by thruterryseyes. Who can resist a hurt Dean, right? ♥ Based on the original art, in which Dean looks pretty young, I put this story somewhere in the earlier seasons though no actual canon events are mentioned.  
I've taken some liberties with the medical parts of this story. Basically, my knowledge is based on the show itself and binge-watching The Walking Dead. (Yes, this is a not-too-subtle warning. *g*)  
Beta by: dizzojay - thank you for coming to the rescue on such short notice! You're a star!  
Word Count: ~6500  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be, gosh darn it!  
Summary: Dean has been a hunter all his life. He knew the risks, he was trained to fight and survive, and he was prepared to attack anything that went bump in the night. One single encounter, though, didn't go according to plan and suddenly his life was changed forever.

 

The attack came without warning.

One moment, Dean was walking through the woods, the next moment, he was on his ass, having had his legs literally pulled out from under him by some invisible force.

Dean was vigilant - always had been, since the age of four really, when his father had told him in no uncertain terms that there were things out there that could go bump in the night and he had to make sure that these things didn't get Sammy - so he had kept his eyes open and ears pricked...and yet he had not seen or heard anything that could have warned him about the attack.

He struggled and kicked fruitlessly at the invisible force that had gripped his right leg, but to no avail. He didn't even know what exactly was tearing into him - sharp teeth, actual fangs, maybe claws? Dean could feel the claws - it had to be claws, right? - cut through the heavy denim of his jeans like a hot knife went through butter, only to lodge into the flesh of his lower right leg.

"Shit," he muttered as he realized that he was trapped. No matter how hard he tried to pull away from his attacker, his right leg was held into an iron grip.

Blood began to flow freely from the gashes in his leg. Dean could feel it, the slightly tickling sensation, and it made him renew his struggles.

Dean pulled out his gun and aimed it in the general direction of his attacker, slightly above his right leg. It was difficult to aim, not just because he couldn't actually see his enemy but also because the vicious force of the attack was shaking his entire body, including the hand holding the gun.

Still, he pulled the trigger and shot a few times, hoping to hit some - any - part of his attacker and forcing it to let go of his leg.

All to no avail.

Dean knew he was a damn good shot. At close proximity, he should've been able to hit his attacker - maybe not fatally shoot it but at least injure it enough to escape its clutches.

Instead, Dean heard an inhuman growl, mixed with a hissing sound that clearly indicated he had pissed off his attacker.

Dean's eyes widened in panic and he used all of his strength to kick with his left leg. He aimed above his right leg, exactly where the excruciating pain was radiating from. The attacker's head, the teeth or fangs, had to be there, after all. If it was claws ripping Dean's leg to shreds, he would hit the attacker's arm or leg. Basic logic told him that.

Dean felt his heavy boot connect with something - a massive mountain of heavy muscles that didn't even so much as flinch at Dean's forceful kick. Instead, Dean felt himself being lifted, his right leg still in the clutches of his attacker, until he was hanging upside down in the air. His entire body was being shaken for a long moment, like a ragdoll, before he crashed back down to the ground.

In the back of his mind, Dean realized that a couple of ribs were surely broken, but the sudden, sickening crunch of his leg bone splitting apart kept his focus on the real problem at hand.

Dean screamed in pain and fruitlessly continued his attempts to fight off his attacker. Kicking hadn't worked, he had lost his gun while his attacker was shaking him in the air, and he couldn't find it again in the pitch dark, no matter how much he let his hands search along the ground.

But he still had his knife.

In a last ditch attempt, Dean grabbed the knife and drove it into his enemy.

He half-expected the blade to crumble to dust but apparently he got lucky. Maybe he hit an eye or slashed through some other vulnerable part of the monster's body. Either way, Dean felt his leg being released. He didn't waste a second - he knew he had to get away from there, had to get back to safety, to Baby, to Sam.

"Sam." His brother was still back in their motel room, had no idea that Dean was in a life-threatening situation.

Dean pulled himself up against a nearby tree and almost passed out from the excruciating pain when he put even the slightest weight on his right leg. There was no way for him to actually walk. The bone was broken, and even though he couldn't see it, Dean could feel the flesh hanging off his leg in shreds. His blood was flowing so freely, it felt like water pouring down his leg in a shower.

With sudden clarity, Dean realized that he was going to die if he didn't get back to Sam immediately.

He dropped to the ground and crawled as fast as he could to where Baby was waiting for him. Dean could hear his attacker following him, heard the cracking of twigs and branches, could feel the heavy stomping vibrating through his body on the ground. The damn thing was advancing on him fast, and Baby was still a couple hundred yards away.

Trying his best to ignore the agonizing pain in his right leg, Dean pulled himself back up and began to hop as fast as he could toward his car. He fumbled the car keys out of his pocket, almost dropped them, fell the last few feet toward Baby, dropped the keys for real, somehow managed to find them and unlock the door, hauled his mangled body inside and closed the door behind him just as a massive force rammed against Baby's side, rocking the car.

Dean could still not see his attacker, even though he knew exactly where it was pushing against Baby. It freaked him out to no end. He had fought against some weird shit in his time as hunter, but a completely invisible monster - especially one with such brute force - was a whole other ball game.

At least he was safe for now, ensconced in Baby, but his leg was bleeding so profusely that he was starting to get light-headed. He really needed to get back to Sam.

Dean searched his pockets for his cellphone, wanting to call his brother and warn him what had happened, but couldn't find it anywhere. "Damn it," he muttered as he realized that he must have lost his cell phone, along with his knife and gun, during his fight against the invisible monster.

There was nothing else to do except drive back to the motel, and Dean had never been happier to hear Baby rumble to life...until he tried to start driving and realized that there was no way for him to use his right foot to step on the gas.

With a lot of colorful cursing and a strong will to somehow solve the problem, Dean pulled his damaged right leg out of the way, placed it on the passenger seat as gently as he could, and used his left foot to step on it and get Baby moving.

 

*****

 

Dean had no real collection of how he managed to drive back to the motel. He was slipping in and out of consciousness by that point and had more than one car honk at him when he inadvertently crossed into oncoming traffic.

At least the motel was only a couple of miles away from the woods, and before long Dean saw the blinking neon sign declaring that there were "vacancies" available. He smiled, though it felt more like a grimace. Sam was just up ahead. Sam would know what to do. Sam would keep him safe and make everything right again.

Granted, it was his job to take care of Sam, not the other way around, and Dean hated the idea of screwing up the only responsibility he had ever really had, but on the other hand, he was kind of preoccupied by the profusely bleeding mess that used to be his right leg to be really bothered by the reversed roles.

"So give a guy a break, Dad," he muttered petulantly, just as Baby drove toward the motel. Dean rammed onto the brake, stopping the car in front of the room he shared with Sam, and collapsed unconsciously against the steering wheel.

Not even the loud sound he caused by leaning against the horn woke him up again.

 

*****

 

Dean jostled awake when Baby swerved violently and he was thrown against the passenger side door. He blinked, trying to get his bearings, but he felt disoriented and so, so tired.

"--don't know, Bobby!"

Dean immediately zeroed in on his brother's voice, though he frowned at the frantic tone.

"Well, what do you think I'm doing? I'm taking him to a hospital!" There was silence while Sam listened to whatever Bobby was saying. "No idea. That's why I called you." More silence. "What else do you want me to tell you? His leg is in shreds. I've never seen anything like it. So, what could've caused this, Bobby? I have to be able to spin some tall tale when we get to the ER. There's just so much blood!"

Dean frowned at that. His right leg was throbbing horribly and he could feel blood flowing freely, pumped out of open wounds with every beat of his heart. While his leg felt searing hot, the rest of his body was ice-cold. Dean shivered and whimpered softly.

"Dean?" Sam's head swiveled around. "Bobby, he's awake!"

Dean blinked slowly and tried to focus on his brother. "Sam," he said softly. "You're okay." He looked relieved and closed his eyes again.

"Hey, hey, hey! Dean, no! Don't you dare-- Dean, stay awake!" Sam shook Dean's shoulder almost violently. With his other hand still holding the cell phone, the car began to swerve off the road. Sam grabbed the steering wheel again and brought Baby back on track. "Shit," he muttered. "Bobby, seriously, I need your help."

Dean tried his best to focus on the discussion going on but he just felt so damn tired. Maybe if he just rested a little bit more, he'd regain his strength and--

"Dean!" Sam's voice verged on panic. "Bobby! I really need your input now."

Dean forced one eye open and watched blearily how his brother was trying to keep it together. He felt bad for not being able to help but it was a real effort just to stay conscious.

"I...I don't know, Bobby. Like, two miles out?" Sam squinted at the road. "We're in the middle of nowhere here, we're lucky there's a hospital in the next town." Apparently, Bobby asked how far away the next town was, because Sam said quietly, "About thirty miles, I guess." His eyes cut to Dean for a long moment, and Dean tried to smile reassuringly though he was convinced it looked more like a grimace. "Not sure he'll make it until then," Sam whispered, clearly worried sick. "Help me out here, Bobby."

Dean closed his eyes again. He really wanted to help his little brother, to reassure him that things would be okay, but he really needed to rest.

A second later, he hissed in pain when Baby made a sharp U-turn and he was thrown against the car door again. His head slammed against the window with a loud crack.

"Shit, Dean, sorry." Sam quickly squeezed Dean's left knee reassuringly. "Slight change of plans. Gonna get you some help in a moment, I promise." He focused on the road again and said into his cell phone, "What's the guy's name again? Duke? Of course it is." Sam squeezed Dean's knee again. "Bobby says a former hunter's living just outside this godforsaken town. He's a doctor so he can help us. You and your dumb luck, Dean."

Dean didn't feel particularly lucky but managed a weak nod.

"Okay, letting you go so you can call your friend and warn him we're coming." Sam squinted at his surroundings. "Driving through town again so ETA should be, I don't know, three to four minutes? Thanks, Bobby." Sam threw his cell phone down, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and made Baby's engine howl.

Dean smiled softly at the deep rumble vibrating through his body and lost consciousness again.

 

*****

 

Sam stopped the car with screeching tires at the address Bobby had given him, and got out.

An older guy holding a shotgun was standing on the front porch. "You the Winchester boys?"

"Yeah. Duke?"

"Yeah." The man put the shotgun down and came closer just as Sam opened the passenger side door. An unconscious Dean tumbled out and Sam barely managed to catch him. Duke looked into the interior of the car and saw the impressive pool of blood. "We gotta hurry. You need help?"

"No, I got it." Sam hefted his brother into his arms and, stumbling slightly, followed Duke toward the house.

In the distance, fireworks suddenly started to explode and light up the night sky.

"What the hell?" Sam stopped to watch for a moment.

"Fourth of July, son. Time to celebrate the birth of our nation."

Sam hadn't even realized what the date was, and now found it oddly unfitting to have sparkly fireworks going off while his brother was fighting for his life. He pulled Dean closer to his chest and continued walking. "Hey," he exclaimed as he saw a shingle hanging next to the door. "You're a vet? Bobby said you're a doctor!"

"I'm a veterinarian now, yeah," Duke said. "But I'm also a veteran. Used to be a medic in the service. I'm an unofficial doctor for any hunters passin' through. I know a thing or two that'll help your brother."

Still not entirely happy, Sam brought Dean into the examination room and placed him on the table. He couldn't bring himself to really look at the mangled leg.

"Well, shit," Duke said after a long moment. He stared at the injuries and the still freely flowing blood. He quickly applied a tourniquet to Dean's right leg. "You ever heard of blood loss being fatal, boy?" he grouched. "You coulda killed your brother on your way here."

Sam glared. "I found him collapsed in the car," he said. "I saw he was injured so I got in and drove to the nearest hospital as fast as I could. I tried to get him help."

"Nearest hospital is too far away. At least you had the brains to call Bobby for help."

"I called him because I hoped he could tell me what had attacked my brother, not to ask if there was some quack doctor living close by," Sam shot back.

Duke snorted. "This quack doctor is goin' to save your brother's life in a moment," he muttered. "So you'd better be grateful." And without another word, he left the room.

Sam stared after the older man in disbelief. It might not be the smartest idea to antagonize the person who was about to operate on your brother, but the guy just rubbed him the wrong way. As if he hadn't tried everything to save Dean. They had been hunters all their lives. Sam knew a thing or two about keeping them alive, damn it, but some injuries were just too serious to deal with on their own.

The door opened again and Duke walked back in, an axe slung over his shoulder.

Sam's eyes widened in panic. "What the hell do you think you're doing with that thing?"

Duke looked almost apologetic. "Look, son, nobody could save your brother's leg. Not even a team of twenty world class surgeons. I wouldn't even know where to begin." He gestured at the horribly mangled bits of flesh and splintered bone that was poking out in every direction. "I have no clue what kind of monster caused this. There ain't no supernatural beings around these woods, and not even a bear or a cougar coulda done this much damage. All we can do is try to save your brother from bleedin' to death."

"With an axe?" Sam yelled in disbelief.

"Listen, kid, I ain't got time to discuss this with ya. We chop off the leg and cauterize the wound best we can. If we're lucky, he'll survive. We keep the tourniquet on, he won't bleed out but his leg'll fall off due to necrosis and he'll end up dead anyway." Duke sanitized the axe and then gave a practice swing with it. "I'd prefer doin' this the right way but I have no idea where to even begin usin' a scalpel. He needs tons of blood and he needs it now. First we gotta get rid of the wound though or he'll bleed it all out again in no time. So what'll it be?"

Sam stared in shock at his deathly white brother, still lying unconsciously on the table. "But...he needs...what about...you need to put him under first, at least!"

"With his blood pressure so low I can't even measure it? He's unconscious. He'll be fine."

And before Sam could protest further, the axe came down.

Dean arched up and screamed in agony.

 

*****

 

Dean blinked his eyes open slowly and tried to figure out where he was. Everything felt weird, his head disconnected from the rest of his body. He realized that he must be pumped full of really good drugs and smiled softly at the idea of floating on a big, white, fluffy cloud.

"Hey, son, ya finally awake?"

Dean's eyes shot open again and he looked around frantically. An older guy, about Bobby's age and with the same grizzled, bearded face, stood next to his bed. Dean frowned. His bed? "Wh-where am I?" he croaked, his voice clearly not having been used for a while. "Who the hell are you?" He looked around and became agitated. "Where's Sam?"

The older guy placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. Instead of calming him down, however, it had the opposite effect: Dean tensed up and was poised for fight. "My name's Duke. I'm an old friend of Bobby's. Sam brought ya here so I could take care of your injuries. He should be back soon. He just went to grab your stuff from the motel. I told him y'all could crash here for the time bein'."

Dean frowned in confusion. His injuries? Crash for the time being? "Crash where exactly?" he finally just asked.

At that moment, they both heard the deep rumble of Baby's engine. Duke smiled. "I'm sure Sam'll explain everything to ya. In the meantime, how are ya feelin'? Are ya in any pain? I can give ya a little more morphine if ya really need it."

Dean shook his head slowly. He wasn't in any pain. He felt numb, for the most part. "What injury?"

Duke looked suddenly very sad. "I'm sorry, son," was all he said, and placed his hand where Dean's lower right leg was. Dean frowned when he couldn't feel the touch and looked down his body. Even covered with a light blanket, he could see that, from the knee down, there was no more right leg. His eyes widened in shock. "What--"

At that moment, Sam walked into the room. "Dean!" he exclaimed. "You're finally awake." He threw himself bodily at his brother and hugged tight.

"Dude!" Dean pushed against his brother's torso. "Dude. I'm missing a leg. I'm missing a friggin' leg!" His voice was on the verge of hysteria. "This is a dream, right? Some kind of nightmare?" He sat up just enough to be able to pat the mattress below his right knee with his own hand. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. "Djinn got me or something? Ha-ha, very funny. I'm gonna wake up now." He pinched himself, hard.

"No. No, Dean." Sam shared a guilty look with Duke. "I'm so sorry but...but you actually did lose your lower leg, Dean. We couldn't save it."

Dean stared from Sam to Duke and back to Sam, closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in the pillow, willing the world to disappear.

 

*****

 

"I can still feel it, Sam." Dean rubbed his left foot along the mattress, just underneath his right knee. He knew intellectually that the rest of the leg was gone, actually saw that there was nothing below the heavily wrapped stump, but his mind still refused to accept reality.

"I know, Dean. Phantom pains. I'm sorry."

"They're not phantom pains. I don't feel pain. I just feel my leg." Dean looked equal parts frustrated and worried.

"It'll get better. Give it time."

"Easy for you to say," Dean exploded. "You still got both of your stupid gigantor legs."

"It's not my fault that you lost part of your leg," Sam replied, trying to sound reasonable. "Your injuries were just too serious. Amputation was the only way to save your life." Neither Sam nor Duke had actually told Dean that an axe had been involved, and they didn't plan to. The whole ordeal was traumatizing enough.

"What injuries? I wasn't injured."

Sam wasn't sure if Dean was lying or if his mind had blanked out the entire episode. "You were badly injured. There are still nasty blood stains all over your car, Dean."

Dean gasped in shock. "Baby?"

"Yeah. But we'll take care of that later." Sam sighed. "Can you tell me why you went into the woods?"

"What woods?" Dean asked defensively.

"Don't play stupid. I know you went there. I just don't know why."

"How do you know I went to the woods?"

Sam gave his brother a bitch-face. "Because I went there, trying to find out what had attacked you. I found your cell phone, your knife and your gun." Sam raised his chin defiantly. "I also found your duffel, chock-full with fireworks. What gives, Dean?"

Dean squirmed, looking uncomfortable. "It's stupid," he finally muttered.

"Well, that wouldn't surprise me. Tell me anyway."

Dean glowered for a long moment, and then sighed. "Remember the Fourth of July back in Ninety-Six?"

Sam frowned in confusion. "Yes?" he finally ventured. "What about it?"

"It was one of the best moments of my life. Definitely one of my fondest memories with you." Dean shrugged. "You once told me it was one of your favorites, too."

"It actually is," Sam replied softly. He patted Dean's arm. "You organized fireworks, just for me. Dad would've killed us if he'd ever found out."

"He would've killed me, not you, but yeah." Dean ducked his head, smiling softly to himself at the memory of his little brother, dancing excitedly among the fireworks going off.

"Okay, but I still don't get why you went to the woods that night."

Dean shrugged again. "We've been fighting the whole time lately. I mean, we basically didn't talk to each other for, like, two whole days and I still don't even know why. I thought that maybe the fireworks trick would work again. I was scouting for a nice place to set everything up and then I was going to come get you."

On the one hand, Sam was charmed by Dean's well-intentioned if naïve thought process. On the other hand, he wanted to strangle him for pulling such a stupid stunt and almost getting himself killed in the process. "Dean," he said, not unkindly. "I'm not a little kid anymore."

"No, but you'll always be my little brother, and I was hoping you'd appreciate the walk down memory lane. Sorry I was wrong." Dean crossed his arms mulishly and turned his head away. He was done talking.

 

*****

 

"Where are we going?" Dean watched as his brother packed up their meager belongings.

"Bobby's."

"What? Why?"

Sam dropped his backpack next to the door and gave Dean a long look. "Well, for one thing, he's been breathing down my neck telling me to bring you there so he can see for himself that you're still alive. And second of all, you're doing great, all things considered. Duke's happy with how your leg is healing. We should get out of his hair."

"Yeah, but why Bobby's? I mean, we can't just leave. We gotta fry whatever monster is lurking in these woods." Dean gestured vaguely outside the window.

"Duke already contacted a couple of hunters. They're taking care of things for us."

Dean frowned. "It's my monster to kill," he muttered petulantly. "Whatever. Got any other cases lined up?"

"On our way to Sioux Falls, you mean?"

"No, instead of our trip to Sioux Falls. Seriously, dude. I'm a hunter. I'm not gonna sit on my ass all day in Bobby's kitchen, drinking his beer."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I highly doubt you'll be doing much of that. He's gonna have your hide if you just sit around and drink his beer."

"You know what I mean."

"And you know that we're gonna go see Bobby. End of discussion." Sam held out the crutches Duke had organized and waited until Dean took them. "All right. Let's go then."

Dean just muttered under his breath and, in retaliation, "accidentally" tripped his brother with one of the crutches.

 

*****

 

As it turned out, Dean did spend quite a bit of time sitting on his ass, drinking Bobby's beer.

Sam realized pretty early on that his brother was going through the seven stages of grief. Not that he was surprised. Losing a body part was traumatic, after all.

Dean had left the first stage, shock and denial, and entered stage two, pain and guilt, around the time they packed their stuff and left Duke's. He moved on to stage three, anger and bargaining, right before they got to Bobby's. He hated the fact that he spent the entire road trip on the backseat because it was better for him to elevate his leg. He hated the fact that Sam drove his car. He hated the fact that Sam had decided for him that going to Bobby's was the best course of action. He hated just about everything, and he didn't hold back in letting Sam know just how unhappy he was.

Sam, for his part, took the vitriol in stride.

When they got to Bobby's place and Dean had a couple of days to acclimate - and he had had the chance to take a sledgehammer to a couple of Bobby's cars, just because - he entered stage four, depression.

It was the little things at first, like having trouble getting up the stairs or slipping in the damn shower. Everyday life showed Dean his physical limits, and for a guy who had always relied on his body to get his job done, it was a brutal blow to his confidence.

Sitting on his ass and drinking beer seemed like a good solution.

Funnily enough, it was Bobby who coddled him. Sam had figured that the older man would be just what Dean needed - tough love, a kick in the ass, a good talking-to. But instead, Bobby let Dean be, allowed him to lash out verbally and physically, didn't mind bringing dinner upstairs when Dean couldn't be bothered to leave his room.

Sam allowed this farce to go on for a week before he finally decided to end this charade.

When he walked into Dean's room, he found his brother propped up in bed, a small notebook in his hand, staring intently at whatever he had written. He didn't smell ripe, so he had clearly taken a shower, and he was wearing clean clothes. This was a vast improvement to the last few days, and Sam wondered idly if Dean had finally moved to the next stage of grief.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked carefully, not wanting to set off his brother unnecessarily.

Dean startled slightly and looked up. "Oh, just crunchin' some numbers."

"Yeah? What numbers?"

"Well, there's no way we're gonna go back to hunting."

Sam gave a sigh of relief. The whole "being a hunter for life" thing had been a constant source of discussion between them. Apparently, Dean had skipped right to the last stage, acceptance. Perfect.

"I mean, I'm not gonna take you with me on hunts anymore. I realize I got a bit of a handicap now so I can only take care of myself. There's no way I can keep an eye on you as well. Right? So I was wondering what to do about your future."

Sam was at a total loss about what to say. Finally, he just blurted, "I don't need anybody to keep an eye on me during hunts. And anyway, you stupid idiot, you're not gonna go hunting again either. What the hell do you think you'll do? Hop to safety when a vamp is after you? Or a werewolf? You gonna stab some monster with a build-in knife in your crutch?"

"Good idea actually," Dean replied blithely. "Though I could do without the sarcasm. As I was saying, your future. I figure, if we wait till the next fall semester, it'll give me enough time to scrunch up some extra cash." He held up one hand. "No credit card scams, don't worry. Just, ya know, some pool hustlin' and the like. Think folks will fall for it more easily when a cripple approaches them?" He lifted his right leg meaningfully.

Sam was beyond furious. "Okay, first of all? You're not a damn cripple and don't you dare call yourself that. Second of all, I'm not going back to school, Dean. Thanks for the offer but that ship has sailed."

Dean frowned. "Well, what else do you think you're gonna do then? You wanted out of the hunter life, Sammy. You actually got out of it before I pulled you back in. Now's the perfect time to get back to a boring, normal life."

"I'm not going to continue hunting. But I'm also not going back to school. I'm going to take care of you." Sam shook his head in disbelief.

Dean snorted. "I don't need a babysitter."

"No, you need someone who beats some sense into you. Bobby's going to get sick and tired of us soon enough. We're going to find a place to live, I'll find work, and then we'll live boring, normal lives until we die of old age."

Dean snorted again. "That's just stupid."

"How is that even remotely stupid? You almost lost your life while hunting. Count your blessings and get out while you can. Maybe we can help out occasionally, do research or take over phone duty so Bobby can catch a break."

"What, you wanna live here? In Sioux Falls?"

Sam shrugged. "They don't call it The Best Little City in America for nothing, do they?"

"Stupid."

"Hey, don't call my idea stupid or I'm gonna kick your ass."

"If anyone's gonna kick any ass, it's gonna be me, Sammy."

"Oh yeah? How're you gonna do that? You only have one leg left." Sam smirked und turned to leave the room.

A second later, Dean bounced off his bed, hopped twice to get close enough, braced himself with one hand against the wall for balance, and then kicked Sam in the ass.

Hard.

Sam yelped in pain and rubbed his behind, turning back around to glare at his brother. That was when he realized that Dean had landed on his own ass after the kick, having lost his balance, and was now sprawled on the floor. He smirked.

"Worth it," Dean said blithely, making himself comfortable on the floor as if he had planned to end up there all along. "Totally worth it."

 

*****

 

Several Months Later...

Dean sat down in the rocking chair on the front porch, stretched his legs a little, and took a long sip from the cold beer bottle.

He could get used to this, he decided. This life, boring and normal as it may seem. This front porch and this house, a small but well-maintained ranch style building that only had a main floor - no unnecessary stairs for Dean to climb on a daily basis - and especially this neighborhood.

It had taken them a while to find this house. At first Bobby let them stay at his place but Dean was getting tired of all the stairs and the clutter he had to maneuver around, and Sam was getting antsy to start "their new life together". So Sam began to look for work. He did odd jobs here and there, anything to earn and save up money. He also researched the best medical care for Dean and made sure that his curmudgeon brother went to physical therapy and regular check-ups. Dean did refuse to get a prosthetic unless they found something "really cool that makes me look like the Six Million Dollar Man". With his stamina and quick reflexes, though, it turned out that he was perfectly fine without a prosthetic on his leg.

Right around the same time Sam found his permanent jobs - working part-time in the university library and at the local animal shelter - Dean decided enough was enough. He wasn't going to let Sam pay for all of their food and clothes and damn roof over their head.

So he went out and got himself a job as well.

Sam was unsure about the whole thing at first but Dean made it perfectly clear that he wasn't an invalid and he could find and hold down a job just fine, thank you very much.

He found Ike's, a garage that specialized in classic cars, walked up to the boss and told the man that he knew more about taking care and repairing classic cars than all of Ike's other employees put together.

Ike, a giant of a man with a booming voice, a huge beer gut and a dry sense of humor, gave Dean one look, pointed to a '64 Thunderbird and declared that if Dean managed to get the car running again, he would have the job.

As it turned out, everyone - including Ike - had tried to find out what was wrong with the car but had been unsuccessful. The Thunderbird had been in the garage for almost two months by the time Dean showed up.

Two days later, the lady was purring like a contented cat and Dean got the job.

With both of them holding down regular jobs - and a bit of extra help from Bobby - they had enough money between them to look for a permanent place to live. They found their house a few weeks later, in a dismal condition that made it affordable to buy. They spent the next couple of months renovating and sprucing it up until they could proudly call themselves owners of an actual house and not a ruin.

The house was close to the university and still within walking distance to the animal shelter so Sam didn't even need the car to get to work, which was perfect because Dean hated not being the one behind Baby's wheel. The neighborhood was diverse in race and gender, with mostly young couples and families living there, and Sam and Dean quickly found new friends.

Yup, Dean decided. He could really get used to this.

"Move it, lazy bones."

Dean squinted up at his brother who had the audacity to shove his shoulder, trying to get Dean to vacate his beloved rocking chair. "Dude. Chill. What's wrong with you?"

"We gotta get going. Come on."

"Get going where?" Dean frowned. He raised his beer bottle meaningfully. "I'm busy."

"Yeah well, it's getting dark so come on." Sam made a shooing motion.

Dean actually snorted at that. "It's getting dark? What, do I have a curfew now? Do I have to go inside and get ready for bed?"

"What? No. I got something planned and we should get going. Come on now." Sam jingled Baby's car keys meaningfully.

Normally not one to pass up the opportunity to take Baby for a spin, Dean still balked. "But it's my first day off in ages," he said petulantly. "I wanna relax and drink beer." He pointed with his beer bottle in the direction of their next door neighbor. "We're invited to the party, Sam. There's gonna be barbeque. And more beer. And Sally promised to make apple pie." Dean leaned forward, wanting to make sure that his brother truly grasped the importance of this bit of information. "Home-made apple pie, Sam."

Sam chuckled at the look of pure longing on Dean's face. "I'm sure Sally will save you a piece. We'll be back in no time and can join the party later, I promise. Come on, this is important to me."

Dean could never deny his little brother anything, so with a theatrical sigh, he got up, grabbed his crutches and followed Sam to their car.

 

*****

 

"So, where are we going?" he asked about ten minutes later, once it became clear that they weren't heading to Bobby's.

"Outside the city," was Sam's vague reply. He smiled a little. "You'll see."

By the time Sam parked Baby in the middle of a field outside of Sioux Falls, it had gotten dark.

"Now what?" Dean asked, looking confused.

"Just get comfy and I'll be with you in a moment." Sam gestured at Baby's hood and then disappeared behind the trunk.

Heaving a big sigh, Dean did as he was told and sat down on Baby's hood. "This better be good," he muttered. "You're ruining a perfectly good day off right now."

"No, I'm not," Sam replied smugly as we walked past Dean, carrying a large crate full of something Dean couldn't see. Sam continued to walk until he was a good distance away from the car, set the crate down and began to unpack. Dean craned his neck but it was too dark to see what his brother was doing.

"Need any help?" Dean finally shouted, for no other reason than the fact that he wanted to come closer and find out what Sam was doing.

Sam, of course, could see right through Dean's ploy. "No, thanks. I'm good." He was busy setting up something and needed a couple more minutes, but then stood up, grabbed the crate and walked back toward his brother. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" Dean asked, exasperatedly.

Sam just grinned, jogged back to where he had been busy, and a few seconds later, fireworks began to explode across the night sky. Sam ran back just in time to see Dean stare at the fireworks in awe. "You like?" he asked with a big smile.

"Absolutely." Dean grinned back, looking like a little kid.

They scooted backwards until they were reclining against Baby's hood and windshield, and just watched the fireworks above them.

"Happy Fourth of July, Dean."

"Yeah. Happy Fourth to you too, Sammy."

 

THE END


End file.
